The way in which knowledge of Physical Science is imparted to us is apt to mislead. The principles are laid down, but our text-books are silent as to the original discoverers and exponents; so that, getting our education from European instructors, with the help of European text-books, and having no concurrent teaching as to ancient Indian history arts, sciences or literature, we are as ignorant of our national antecedents as though we were at school in Ireland or Germany, or even Iceland or Russia. No wonder, then, that the fires of a true patriotism — that which makes one love and revere his native land and his ancestors, are being quenched. We are becoming more European, and less Aryan every day. Let us avail then, of the present opportunity, to sound the sea of Aryan literature and bring up whatever important thing we can. The idea of a siphon, for example, is obtained by us through the medium of the English tongue. No historical sketch is attached to important treatises on these sciences.
This most naturally breeds in us a false idea that the subject we read of must be a European discovery. Although Sanskrit literature abounds in references to various conclusions of these sciences, still there is no work yet found which is devoted to any special subject. The progress of Europe and the backwardness of Hindustan in the cultivation of Physical Sciences strengthen this prejudice, until we come to believe that nothing was done in this direction in Aryavarta even in its golden days. This is saddening: true, but we cannot deny it; the fact is there. Patience, however, in our search through the profound depths of Aryan literature, rewards the inquirer every now and then with facts which at least for a moment enable one to realise to some extent what must have been the good old times of Aryavarta. Up, then, brothers; let us search, and we will surely find. Let us begin with the siphon.

1. The Kukkuta Nadi: what is this! It is no other than the siphon. The name when translated comes to mean "a cock tube," and is analogous to "the U shaped tube."

Bhaskaracharya, the celebrated Hindu astronomer, who lived eight centuries ago, says: — "If a metallic tube bent in the form of an ankusa [Ankusa — is a goad for driving elephants with, and in form it resembles the English letter "p."] be filled with water, and if one end of it be put out of, and the other into a pot full of water, and if we let go both the ends, the water will flow out in a continuous stream. "This is" says the author of the Siddhanta Shiromanni, "well known to the artizans by the name of a cock-tube or kukkuta nadi; and wonders are wrought by means of this."

Ganot speaks thus: — "The siphon is filled with some liquid and the two ends being closed, the shorter leg is dipped in the liquid * * It will then run out through the siphon as long as the shorter end dips in the liquid." (Ganot's "Physics": The Siphon.)

Now, while the Aryan knowledge of the siphon cannot be hypothecated upon an Indian work only eight centuries old, yet this passage makes it clear enough that this hydraulic instrument was used in this country long before Ganot's "Physics" was written, and hence the lads in our schools are not obliged to believe the siphon a European invention, merely because Ganot describes it. And that point being settled, the remoter question of Aryan priority over the Greek and Egyptian philosophers, may be safely postponed for another occasion. The magnificent ruins of our ancient hydraulic works ought to satisfy us that engineers capable of constructing them must have known their science thoroughly.

In the works called Sukraniti and Brihatsanhita, much interesting information is given. We will place it before our readers in the next issue.

(1) At the request of Col. Olcott I have permitted the following paper to be published with materials collected by me for a paper read to the Students' Literary and Scientific Society, in 1871. I had intended to rewrite the life of Sankaracharaya, with some additions and alterations, but as present pressing engagements do not leave me sufficient leisure for such an effort, I have thought it advisable to consent to my original Essay being utilized by Col. Olcott according to his own discretion. — K. T. T.

I might well plead the multitudinous engagements of a busy professional and literary life, as an excuse for not complying with the request to briefly notice in the THEOSOPHIST the incidents of Sankaracharaya's illustrious career. But I am, first and last, a Hindu, and my sympathies and humble co-operation are pledged in advance to every legitimate attempt to elucidate the history of India or better the intellectual or physical condition of my countrymen. From the earliest time the study of philosophy and metaphysics has been prized and encouraged in this country, and high above all other names in its history are written those of our people who have aimed to help men to clearer thinking upon the subjects embraced in those categories, whether by their writings, discourses or example. The life which forms my present theme is the life of one of the greatest men who have appeared in India. Whether we consider his natural abilities, his unselfish devotion to the cause of religion, or the influence he has
exerted upon his countrymen, this splendid ascetic stands facile princeps.

So enchanting, in fact, are all his surroundings, that it is no wonder that the admiration of an astonished people should have euhemerized him into an incarnation of the Deity. Our ignoble human nature seems ever so conscious of its own weakness and imperfection, as to be prone to deify whomsoever exemplifies its higher aspirations; as though the keeping of him on the human plane made other men seem meaner and more little by contrast.

Sankaracharaya's biographers apotheosised their hero, as Alexander's and Cicero's and those of Apollonius, Jesus and Mahomet did theirs. They made his advent presaged by a heavenly vision — of Mahadeva, to his father, Sivaguru — and his career attended by miracles which no theory of interior, or psychical, development can cover. A lenient posterity may well pass over these pious embellishments as the fruit of an exuberant partiality, for after all these have been stripped away, the true grandeur of the pandit, philosopher, and mystic is only the more plainly revealed to us.

We are, unfortunately, without the necessary data to enable us to precisely fix the epoch in which this great teacher flourished. Some ascribe it to the second century before, others would bring him down to the tenth after, Christ. Most modern scholars agree in locating him in the eighth century of the Christian era; and, since we have for this opinion the concurrent authority of Wilson, Colebrooke, Rammohan Roy, Yajnesvar Shastri, and Professor Jayanarayan Tarkapanchanam, the Bengali editor of Anandagiri's Sankara Vijaya, and it is less important, after all, to know when he taught than what he taught and did, we may as well accept that decision without debate. No more certainly can his birth-place be determined. As seven cities competed for the honor of having produced a Homer, so five biographers ascribe his nativity to as many different localities. Sringeri is commonly believed to have been the favored town (2); but a passage from the Sivarahanja, quoted in the Kayicharitra, would indicate
a town in the Kerala district, named Sasalagrama (3); Anandagiri's Life of Sankara names Chidambarapura (4); Madhev puts forward Kalati (5); and lastly, Yajnesvar Shastri, in his Aryavidya Sudhakara, tells us that Sankara first saw the light at Kalpi (6).

(2.) See Pandit K. V. Ramaswami's sketches, p. 4 and, the Map at the end of the book.

(3.) Kavicherita, p. 3, line 17.

(4.) Ph. 9 and 19. it may be added here that I have grave doubts as to the Sankara Vijaya, pubished at Calcutta, being really a work of Anandagiri, the pupil of Sankara.

(5) Madhavacharaya. II. 3.

(6). P. 226.

Taking no notice of the portents and wonders said to have occurred in the animal and vegetable kingdoms at his birth — such as the fraternizing together of beasts ordinarily hostile to each other, the uncommon pellucidity of the streams, the preternatural shedding of fragrance by trees and plants, nor of the joy of the Upanishads or the glad paeans of the whole celestial host, we find our hero displaying a most wonderful precocity. In his first year he acquired the Sanskrit alphabet and his own language; at two, learned to read; at three, studied the Kavyas and Puranas — and understood many portions of them by intuition (1). Anandagiri, less circumstantial, merely states that Sankara became conversant with Prakrit Magadha and Sanskrit languages even in saisava, in infancy.

(1). Madhav IV. 1-3.

Having studied the Itihasa, the Puranas, the Mahabharat, the Smritis and the Shastras, Sankara, inhis seventh year, returned from his preceptor to his own home. Madhav narrates that the mother of his hero being, one day, overpowered by the debility resulting from the austerities she had practised before his birth to propitiate the gods and make them grant her prayer for a son, as well as by the torrid heat of the sun, fainted; whereupon Sankara, finding her in the swoon, not only brought her back to consciousness but drew the river up, as well, a circumstance which of course spread his fame as a thaumaturgist far and wide! The Kings of Kerala vainly offering him presents of gold and elephants, through his own minister, came himself to pay reverence, and disclosing his longing for a son like himself, was made happy by the sage, who taught the king privately the rites to be performed in such cases. I must not lose the opportunity to point, in passing, to the two things implied
in this biographical scrap), viz., that (2), it was believed that the birth of progeny may be brought about by the recitation of mantrams and the performance of ceremonial rites, and (3) that the secret is never publicly taught, but privately conveyed from adept to disciple. I shall not dwell upon these facts but leave them to be disposed of as they will by our new friends, the Theosophists, for whom the mystical side of nature offers most enticements.

(1). Madhav V. I. Compare Anandagiri p. 11.

(2). Madhav V. 59.

About this same time the great sage Agastya, visiting him with other sages, prophesied to his mother that he would die at the age of thirty-two. Feeling that this world is all a passing show, this boy of eight years determined to embrace the life of a holy Sannyasi, but his mother objected, her motherly pride doubtless craving a son to her son who should inherit his own greatness of soul and mind. The lad's determination was not to be shaken, however, and the maternal consent was obtained, as the biographers tell us by the working of a prodigy (4.) Bathing in the river, one day, his foot was caught by an alligator. He wailed so loud that his mother ran to the spot, and, being told that the alligator would not leave go his hold until she had agreed to her son's becoming an ascetic, felt coerced into giving her consent. Sankaracharaya thereupon came out of the river, and confiding her to the care of relatives and friends, and telling her he would come back to her whenever she should need his presence, he
went away and took up the career for which he had so strong a natural bent.

(4). Madhav V. 87. None of Madhav's details are to be found in Anandagiri, where we have but two lines on this subject altogether, p. 17.

As if drawn by some irresistible magnetic attraction towards a certain spot, Sankara travelled for several days, through forests, over hills, by towns, and across rivers, yet all the while unconscious of all, and oblivious to the men and beasts that went by him on his way, he arrived at the cave in a hill on the banks of the Nerbudda, where Govind Yati had fixed his hermitage. After the usual preliminaries the sage accepted the lad as a pupil and taught him the Brahma out of the four great sentences — Knowledge is Brahma; This soul is Brahma; Thou art that; and I am Brahma (5).

It is related by Madhav that, immediately after he had entered upon this discipleship, Sankara performed, — one day, when his guru was immersed in contemplation, or, as we should say Dharana, — the prodigy of quelling a furious tempest of rain accompanied by awful thunder and lightning, by pronouncing certain mystic verses. Hearing, upon returning to consciousness of external things, what his illustrious pupil had done, Govind Natha was overjoyed, as this very event had been foretold to him by Vyasa at a sacrifice celebrated, long before, by the sage Atri. Bestowing his benediction upon Sankara, he bade him go to Holy Benares and receive there the blessing of the Deity.

Thus admonished, Sankara proceeded to Benares where after a residence for some time, he is said to have received his first pupil, Sanandana — the same who afterwards became celebrated as his greatest favorite under the title of Padmapada. I confess to a doubt of the accuracy of this date, though I quote the circumstance from Madhav's book, for it does seem impossible that Sankara should have begun to get pupils at such a very tender age as, upon Madhav's own showing, he must have reached at the time. However, be this as it may, Padmapada was duly enrolled as a disciple at Benares, and there most of the others also joined him.

In his twelfth year Sankara removed to Badari, on the banks of the Ganges, where he composed his masterpiece, the commentary on the Brahma Sutras. Here also, he wrote the commentary on the Upanishads, on the Bhagavadgita, on the Urisimhatapaniya (so called by Madhav), and on the Sanatsujatiya, besides other works. He then taught his great commentary to his numerous pupils, but always reserving his greatest powers of instruction for Padmapada. This excited envy in the breasts of the other pupils, to dispel which Sankara, once standing on one shore of the river which flowed by his residence, called to Padmapada to come over to him directly from the opposite bank. The latter obeyed, and dauntlessly walked over on the surface of the waters, which sent up a lotus at each step he took. It was on this occasion that the name Padmapada was given him by Sankara, as he warmly embraced him in recognition of his enthusiastic devotion.

While teaching his pupils the youthful teacher did not fail of adversaries among the learned men who held tenets different to his own, but he always came off victor. He drew, says Madhav, from the arsenal of a vast Vedic learning, the weapons with which to combat his powerful assailants. We are treated to the description of an eight days' debate between himself and Vyasa, who appeared under the guise of an aged Brahmin but whose identity was intuitively recognized at least by Padmapada. The biographer tells us that the spirit, in his assumed guise of the living Brahmin, propounded a thousand objections to Sankara's great Bhashya on the Brahma Sutras, which were all triumphantly answered, and in the end, gave the latter an extension of sixteen years of life over and above the set term of sixteen that he was to have lived, and after bidding him undertake a refutation of all the other philosophic systems in vogue, blessed him and then disappeared.

After this, Sankara set out for Prayaga in search of Bhatta Kumarila,whom he wished to ask to write vartikas on his Bhashya, but found that he was upon the point of self-cremation in disgust with the world. Vainly entreating him to reconsider his determination, Sankara nevertheless was permitted to explain his commentaries, which Kumarila praised unstintingly; and after the latter had accomplished his act of self-immolation, proceeded on to Mahishmati, the city where, as Kumarila had informed him, he would find Mandana Misra who would undertake the work Sankara had requested him to perform. Arrived at the place, he was directed to the sage's house by parrots miraculously endowed with human speech and able to discuss most recondite questions of philosophy! He found the house but found it closed, so that to obtain entrance he had to raise him self up into the air and alight, a deus ex machina, in Mandana's hall. An animated and, at first, even acrimonious discussion ensued between the host and
his unexpected and unwelcome guest, the two finally deciding to make the wife of Mandana Misra umpire between them. But she, having other matters to attend to, gave each a garland, stipulating that he should be deemed vanquished whose garland withered. I will not attempt in such time and space as I now command, to even epitomise this wonderful debate, but refer the reader to Madhav (VII. 34) for particulars, adding that they will richly repay study. Sankara won, and in winning, under the terms of the debate, claimed his antagonist as a disciple and required him to abandon the domestic life and become an ascetic. He consented, and the wife — who was an incarnation of Sarasvati, as we are told — started for the other world. But before she had quite departed she was prevailed upon by Sankara to tarry while he should hold debate with her also. Then commenced the second discussion, but the ready answers of the former to all questions put to him foiled Sarasvati, as she may now be called, until
she struck into a path to which Sankara was a total stranger. She asked him a question on the science of love. He was of course, unable to answer it at once, being a Sannyasi and a celibate all his life; so he craved a respite of one month, which being granted, he left Mahishmati. The sequel will be told in my next paper.

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In spite of the "arbitrary scepticism" of the large majority of the medical profession, the most satisfactory results are daily obtained in the hospitals by the external application of metals. Symptoms of the most curious nature develop under their influence, and give rise to interesting discussions in medical circles.

*This narrative has just been published in the Messenger of Odessa. The old and brave officer who vouches for it and who was an eyewitness at two of the episodes of the strange occurrence, is too well known in the society circles of Tiflis and Odessa for us to regard this as a cock and bull story. And moreover we have the names of all the participants in the tragical finale. Whatever else an incredulous public may think, Captain L. at least — a highly respected officer — gave the story at Bucharest as a fact, and we print it on account of its value as a contribution to the literature of Psychology. (ED.)

During the last war in Turkey, a small but very mixed, company were assembled, on a Christmas eve, in the apartments occupied by Colonel V . . . in one of the best hotels of Bucharest. Among others, there were present the correspondents of the New-York Herald, London Times, the Golos, and the Berjevoi Vjedomosti; Colonel N.; a Captain; and the President of the Society of the Red-Cross, the well renown P---f. The only lady was the wife of Colonel V. . ., our host, who was busy at the large round table, around which we were all seated, pouring out tea.

We had all become very merry and congenial. All felt, in the best of humours, and each vied with the other in telling interesting stories. Alone poor Mac-Gahan and Lytton, the correspondents, respectively, of the American and English papers, did not seem to share in the general hilarity; a circumstance which attracted attention to them.

"What's the matter with you, Lytton?" asked Colonel V.

"Nothing," answered the correspondent, thoughtfully. "I was thinking about home, and trying to see what they were doing now."

"One may speculate with perfect security" — remarked Mac-Gahan, "and say that the whole family is now assembled around the fire-place, drinking cider, speaking about far-away friends in India, or talking of ghosts . . ."

"You don't mean to say that in England they believe till now in ghosts?" enquired Mme. V.

"The majority do not," replied Lytton, "but there are a good many who do, and a multitude who claim to have seen ghosts themselves. There are also such as have not themselves seen yet who believe all the same . . ."

We were all struck with Captain L's uneasy look and pallor, as he abruptly left the table.

"You may say what you like and laugh at such notions," he remarked. "As for myself, I cannot deny the existence of 'ghosts,' — as you call them. I, myself, was but a few months ago, an eye-witness to a case which will never be obliterated from my memory. This upset all my previous theories . . . "

Yielding to our curiosity, though very unwillingly, the brave Captain told that which he wrote down himself for me a few days after, and which I now publish with his consent.

-------

"During the war in the Caucasus, I was serving in one of the regiments sent against the mountaineers. At that time, a young officer, from the Imperial guard, named Nedewitchef, was transferred into our regiment. The young man was remarkably handsome, with the figure of a Hercules, and would have soon become a general favourite were it not for his shyness and extraordinary misanthropy. Sulky and unsocial in disposition, his only affection seemed to be centred on an enormous black dog with a white star upon its forehead, which he called Caro. Once our regiment had to move against an aoul (Circassian village) that was in full revolt. The Circassians defended their positions with desperate bravery, but as we had on our side the advantage of twice their numbers we disposed of them very easily. The soldiers driven to blind frenzy by the stubborn defence of the enemy, killed every one they met, giving quarter neither to old men nor children. Nedewitchef commanded a company and was
in front of everybody. Near a sakly (a mud hut) I happened to meet him face to face — and I felt thunderstruck! His handsome, magnificent face was all distorted by an expression of brutal cruelty, his eyes were bloodshot and wandering like those of a maniac in a fit of fury. He was literally chopping an old man to pieces with his sword. I was excessively shocked at such a display of useless ferocity, and hurried forward to stop him. But, before I had reached him, the door of the hut flew open, and a woman, with a cry which made my blood run cold, rushed out of it, and flung herself upon the corpse of the old man. At this sight Nedewitchef sprang backward as if he had been shot himself, and trembled violently. I looked at the woman and could hardly suppress a cry of surprise. Heavens, what a gorgeous beauty was there! With her lovely face, pale as death itself, uplifted toward us, her magnificent black eyes, full of nameless terror and mortal hatred were phosphorescent, flaming like two
burning coals as she fixed them upon us. Nedewitchef stared at her like one fascinated, and it was with an effort that, coming out of his stupor, he mechanically gave the orders to beat the rappel in order to put an end to useless bloodshed. I did not see Nedewitchef for several days after that accident; and only learned accidentally from his orderly that the same young woman, two days later, had come to his tent, had thrown herself at his feet, and pouring her whole soul into her tale, had confessed an ardent love for him. She declared that, according to the Circassian custom, his courage had made her his slave, and that she wanted to be his wife. . . . . . . His envious friends had added much more details which would be useless here. Remembering well her look of hatred, I did not at first believe, but had to yield at last to the evidence.

"After the submission of the rebellions aoul, the commander-in-chief encamped us at the foot of the mountain in its neighbourhood, so that we should command the great Shemaha highway. We had to camp there quite a considerable length of time, and having nothing else to do we could easily occupy our days with picnics, rides, and hunting. One afternoon, calling my dog, I took a gun and went out for a stroll in the wild vineyards. I had no intention to hunt, but simply to take a walk and watch the splendid sunset from the top of Ali-Dag. My path ran through the most lovely scenery, along a thick double alley of mimosas, white acacia, and other trees, entwined with vines, hung thickly with bunches of grapes, and chestnut trees with their large crowns of leaves intermingled with fruit. The whole mountain slope was covered with blooming bushes and flowers, which grew in rich profusion and spread themselves like a carpet.

"The air was balmy, heavy with scents, and still, excepting the incessant buzzing of the bees; not a breath of wind disturbed one single leaf, and nature itself seemed slumbering. Not a human step, not even the sound of a far away voice; so that I was finally overpowered by a hallucination which made me dream I was walking upon a deserted island. . .

"Having gone about two or three miles by an narrow path which wound up to the mountain top, I entered a small thicket drowned in sunlight, and burning like a jewel set with gold, rubies and diamonds. Under a group of tall trees lying lazily on a patch of green moss, I saw Nedewitchef; the black-eyed beauty was sitting near him, playing with his hair, and, asleep at the feet of his master, was the faithful dog. Unwilling to break their tete-a-tete, I passed unperceived by them and began climbing higher up. While crossing with difficulty a thick vineyard, I suddenly came upon three Circassians, who, perceiving me, rapidly disappeared though not quickly enough to prevent my seeing that they were armed to the teeth. Supposing them to be runaways from the conquered aouls, I passed on without paying them much attention. Charmed by the splendid evening I wandered about till night, and returned home very late and tired out. Passing through the camp towards my tent, I at once perceived that something
unusual had happened. Armed horsemen belonging to the General's escort rapidly brushed by me. The division adjutant was furiously galloping in my direction. Near one of the officers' tents a crowd of people with lanterns and torches had assembled, and the evening breeze was bringing the hum of animated voices. Curious to know what had happened, and surmounting my fatigue I went straight to the crowd. I had hardly approached it when I saw that it was Nedewitchef's tent, and a horrid presentiment, which soon became a fearful reality, got hold of me at once.

"The first object I saw was a mass of hacked and bleeding flesh, lying on the iron bedstead. It was Nedewitchef; he had been literally chopped to pieces with yatagans and daggers. At the foot of the bed Caro, also bleeding, was streched, looking at his master's remains with such a human expression of pity, despair, and affection mingled, that it brought a gush of hot tears to my eyes. Then it was that I learned the following: soon after sunset, Caro furiously barking, ran into the camp and attracted general attention. It was immediately remarked, that his muzzle was bleeding. The intelligent dog getting hold of the soldiers' coats, seemed to invite them to follow him; which was immediately understood, and a party of them sent with him up the mountain. Caro ran all the time before the men, showing them the way, till he brought them at last to a group of trees where they found Nedewitchef's mangled body. A pool of blood was found at quite a distance from the murdered man, for which no one could account,
till pieces of coarse clothing disclosed the fact that Caro had had his battle also with one of the murderers, and had come out best in the fight; the latter accounting also for his bleeding muzzle. The black-eyed beauty had disappeared — she was revenged. On the following day Nedewitchef was buried with military honors, and little by little the sad event was forgotten.

"Several of the officers tried to have Caro; but he would live with none: he had got very much attached to the soldiers, who all doted upon him. Several months after that I learned that the poor animal got killed in his turn by a mounted Circasian, who blew his brains out and, — disappeared. The soldiers buried the dog, and many there were among them who shed tears, but no one laughed at their emotion. After Shamyl's surrender, I left the regiment and returned to St. Petersburg.

"Eighteen years rolled away. The present war was declared, and I, as an old Caucasian officer well acquainted with the seat of war, was ordered off to Armenia. I arrived there in August and was sent to join my old regiment. The Turks were in a minority and evidently feeling afraid, remained idle. We also had to be inactive and quietly awaiting for further developments, encamped at Kizil-Tapa in front of the Aladgin heights on which the Turks had entrenched themselves. There was no very rigorous discipline observed as yet in the camp. Very often Mahomedans of the cavalry were sent to occupy positions on advanced posts and pickets; and sleeping sentries on duty were often reported to the chiefs. On the unfortunate day of August 13th we lost Kizil-Tapa. After this unsuccessful battle rigour in discipline reached its climax; the most trifling neglect was often punished with death. Thus passed some time. After a while I heard people talking of the mysterious apparition of a dog named Caro, who was adored by
all the old soldiers. Once as I went to see our Colonel on business, I heard an officer mentioning Caro, when Major T** addressing an artillery man, sternly remarked:

"'It must be some trick of the soldiers'. . .

"'What does all this mean?' I asked the Major, extremely interested.

"'Is it possible that you should not have heard the foolish story told about a dog Caro?' he asked me, full of surprise. And upon receiving my assurance that I had not, explained as follows:

"'Before our disastrous loss of Kizil-Tapa, the soldiers had been allowed many unpardonable liberties. Very often the officers on duty had seen the sentries and patrols asleep. But not with standing all their endeavours, it had hitherto proved impossible to catch any of them: hardly did an officer on duty appear going the rounds, than an enormous black dog, with a white star on its forehead, mysteriously appeared, no one knew whence, ran toward any careless sentry, and pulled him by his coat and legs to awaken him. Of course, as soon as the man was fairly warned he would begin pacing up and down with an air of perfect innocence. The soldiers began circulating the most stupid stories about that dog, They affirm that it is no living dog, but the phantom of 'Caro,' a Newfoundland that had belonged to an officer of their regiment, who was treacherously killed by some Circassians many years ago, during the last Caucasian war with Shamyl.' "

"'The last words of the Major brought back to my memory the pictures of the long forgotten past, and at the same time an uneasy feeling that I could not well define. I could not pronounce a word, and remained silent.

"'You heard, I suppose,' said the Colonel addressing the Major, 'that the commander-in-chief has just issued an order to shoot the first sentry found asleep on his post, as an example for others?'

"'Yes — but I confess to a great desire to first try my hand at shooting the phantom-dog, — or, whoever represents it. I am determined to expose the trick;' exclaimed the irascible Major, who was a skeptic.

"'Well, there is a good opportunity for you,' — put in the adjutant — 'I am just going to make my rounds and examine the posts. Would you like to come with me? Perhaps we will discover something.'

"All readily assented. Not wishing to part from good company, and being besides devoured with curiosity, I said I would go. Major T** carefully loaded his revolver, and — we started. It was a glorious night. A silvery velvet moonlight fantastically illuminated the heights of Aladgin, towering high above us, and of Kizil-Tapa. An unruffled stillness filled the air. In both hostile camps all was quiet. Here and there the faint tinkle of a volynka (a kind of primitive guitar), and, nearer, the mournful cadence of a soldier's voice intoning a popular air, hardly broke the dead stillness of the night; and as we turned an angle in the mountain path sounds and song abruptly ceased.

"We passed through a lonely gorge and began mounting a steep incline. We now distinctly saw the chain of sentries on the picket line. We kept to the bush, in the shadow, to escape observation; and, in fact, we approached unobserved. Presently, it became too evident that a sentinel, seated upon a knoll, was asleep. We had come within a hundred paces of him, when suddenly, from behind a bush, darted a huge black dog, with a white star on its forehead. O, horror! Itwas the Caro of Nedewitchef; I positively recognized it. The dog rushed up to the sleeping sentry and tugged violently at his leg. I was following the scene with intense concentration of attention and a shuddering heart . . .when at my very ear there came the crack of a pistol-shot . . .I started at the unexpected explosion . . . Major T-— had fired at the dog; at the same instant the culprit soldier dropped to the ground in a heap. We all sprang towards him. The Major was the first to alight from his horse; but he had
hardly begun to lift the body, when a heart-rending shriek burst from his lips, and he fell senseless upon the corpse.

"The truth became instantly known; a father had killed his own son. The boy had just joined the regiment as a volunteer, and had been sent out on picket duty. Owing to a terrible mischance he had met his death by the hand of his own father.

(Introductory).

By Pandurang Gopal, G. G. M. C., F. T. S.

India, where Nature has been so bounteous, nay, lavish in her gifts, has always presented the greatest inducements to the zealous student of her forces. It was here that the first progenitors of the human race were matured physically and intellectually. Here the intellect of the human race was first nurtured under the influence of picturesque natural scenery, and fed on the sight of the multifarious productions of organic nature; and here, in the first dawn of conscious existence, it began reverentially to apprehend the fact of a Divine Power, and acquired powers of expression, language taking form, and sound, and grace, and a variety of original deflections and conjugations, and growing after the lapse of unrecorded ages into those majestic, yet melodious forms of thought which bound its first offspring into a community of divine sympathy and created a glorious and harmonious whole.

In India, therefore, history finds those primitive grand conceptions of nature, her forms, and all-pervading forces, which her highest form of creation, the typical man, illustrates in himself. To his remote successor, the modern European, is reserved the mere remoulding of the vast experience of the hoary ages into a new structure of artificial laws and deductions for the production of new means of earthly comfort, in what we now call conventionally, Natural, or Physical Science.

Without derogating from the honor justly due to modern discoverers of the laws of matter and motion, or undervaluing their deductions, or universal generalisations in the different branches of natural or physical science, or their numerous and trustworthy observations, conducted in the spirit of truth, no reader of those venerable tomes of inspired Aryan teaching, which reveal to us the profound lore of old India's sages, whether in grammar, science or philosophy, can fail to appreciate the original discoveries of our forefathers, or properly value the crude but systematized observations of their unaided senses.

It cannot be denied that in their writings are found such shrewd generalisations, and such descriptions of such matter-of-fact phenomena, as every sound intellect must appreciate, and cherish as the first finished works of intellect and imagination. And, if we give a moment's thought to those vast extensions of power which our senses have received in these latter days from such wonderful contrivances as the genius of a Newton, Lavoisier, Davy, Faraday, or Tyndall has devised, we must feel but small and humble when confronted with the evidences of thought and research which have been bequeathed to posterity by sages and seers like Atreya and Agnevesha, or, later on, by Charaka, and Dhanwantari.

The writings of these revered men have come to us, through the changes and vicissitudes of ages, through struggles for the retention of independence and power, through intellectual mists and chilling frosts, considerably detached, or mutilated and interpolated for want of more genuine guides. Their study was gradually neglected for want of encouragement from successive dynasties of cruel or sensual rulers. Thus the spirit of their teaching came to be misapplied in practice, and their theories misunderstood in principle. The sources of new currents of thought were dried up, and observation was neglected, to the detriment of science as well as art. The diagnosis of disease became in time a matter of guess-work and uncertainty, and its treatment empirical, hap-hazard, and dangerous.

In this dearth of the professors of science, however, the nomenclature of diseases with their classes arranged according to the seat, origin, or nature, was transmitted through successive generations of enfeebled and depressed intellects, and practitioners of the art were compelled to ply it on the borrowed and indirect testimony of legendary accounts of supposed, and often fanciful, virtues of drugs and their combinations. Such unworthy followers of Sushruta and Charaka, being necessarily dwarfed in intellect and warped in observing powers, were compelled to live largely on the credulity of their patients, or, by acting in a measure on their imaginations and prejudices; alternately seeking to kindle hope or excite fear of loss of health, and death; they in their turn trusting to the mercy of chance, or to the fancied contrivances of an erring imagination.

This state of medical science still prevails among the Hindus, unhappily to a large extent, and were it not for the establishment of a few schools for medical instruction in India, where the study of physical science is obligatory, would be likely to continue for sometime to come.

There is, at present, no prospect of resuscitating the study of these works, except as a means of healthy intellectual recreation, as the whole system is based on an assumption of 3 vikritees, or corruptions of the man or vital force residing in the human frame, to which the Aryan physicians gave the conventional names of pita (bile), vata (air), and kapha (phlegm); to which some add the blood, a fourth vikritee or transformed force. The modern reader is therefore at once inclined to reject the theory as well as the descriptions of diseases based on that theory, as absurd and without experimental proof. But these descriptions need not deter any student of medicine from following the experience of these writers on the more practical parts of the subject; viz., their knowledge of the properties of substances used as remedies, and of special virtues attributed by them to certain drugs, which have not hitherto been known or found.

This phase of the subject has recently attracted some attention. among the medical graduates in Bengal, and since the time of Drs. Wise and Ainslie, who first made most creditable attempts at investigating the nature and value of indigenous drugs used in native practice, Drs. Kanaya Lal Deva, and Mohideen Shereef, of Madras, accomplished the most laborious and scientific task of identifying them, and of reducing the numerous synonyms for the same materials, which the various languages of India afford, to order and precision. We have recently been presented with a veritable epitome of the whole range of Indian Materia Medica by a Bengali medical scholar, Dr. Oodaya Chandra Datta, in a goodly volume in which the reader can find a carefully classified arrangement of medical substances, according to the three principal sources of their production, viz., the mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms; with their Sanscrit names, their Bengali or Hindi equivalents, and their modern English or current Latin
appellations. Each substance is preceded by a description of the part used in practice, and accompanied by noted formulae for its administration according to the systematic arrangement of Chakra-datta, the most systematic therapeutist of old, whose verses are cited in authority.

The labours of these physicians are deserving of our gratitude, and have opened to the native practitioner of medicine in India a wide field of research wherein to cultivate an experience of the active properties of native remedies, or their physiological action, in graduated as well as homoeopathic doses, on the different functions of the human body.

These authors have supplied a reliable index to the most ordinary medical virtues, but it is left to the future investigator to separate their active principles, proximate or remote. and furnish to the practising physician ready and trustworthy means to counteract morbid action, or meet such indications for relief as may be warranted by his knowledge of the supposed or proved actions, on the healthy human system.

The modern practitioner is too much imbued with a minute acquaintance with the structure of the human organs and with a stereotyped knowledge of their functions in health (as contrasted with his ideas of the significance of symptoms produced by proximate or remote causes of disease), to be actuated by a pure desire of influencing those changes for a return to health by means of the most ready, or the most active and certain of the desired effect. In the treatment of disease the prevailing dogmas on the pathology of any particular organ influence him so much that, in his desire to seem scientific or keep up his reputation as a man of science, he often clings too scrupulously to the teaching of his school. He is consequently less impatient to cure by the simplest or what at all events would seem to be common-place remedies. But we believe a time will come, when such high-class prejudices will give place to a more matter-of-fact experience, and the practice of rational medicine will depend on remedies or
measures suggested equally by modern pathology, with its ruling Galenical doctrine, sublatercausa, tolliter effectus, and by the doctrine of Hahnemann, popularly called Homoeopathy, the similiasimilibuscurantur, provided only that the drug proposed is proved by experience to be exactly homoeopathic of the symptoms of disease.

We feel that we are just beginning to traverse the true paths of science, and if we cultivate experience in a true spirit, then with fresh advances in our knowledge of the composition of organic products, and a surer acquaintance with the physiology of vegetable secretions, we may be able to alight on the specific actions of these products as influencing individual and isolated forces of animal life. And such results will tend to clearer indications for controlling morbid actions, in the blood or in the tissues, to a degree commensurate with the different manifestations of that vital force which feeds the organs and sustains their healthy action.

We do not yet know how, out of many other products of our so-called European Materia Medica, the different classes of vegetable bitters and astringents act, and we are yet in the dark as to the real significance of the actions of what are called nervine stimulants and tonics, or, if you will, what are known as nervine sedatives and depressants.

Leaving out of mind other species of drugs still credited with alterative properties, and which influence the various or the primary centres of the sympathetic system of nerves, we have yet to learn in what relation to the various dynamical forces of the human body these artificial classes of remedies stand.

We shall not, at this stage of our theme, tire the reader's patience with a consideration of what is assumed on hypothesis drawn from previous experience, as they can best be studied with the help of many excellent works on the subject. We have merely to ask the indulgence of an attentive perusal of what we will render from the original Sanskrit of the classification and properties of substances described by the Aryan physicians, with the explanation of their actions which modern physiology suggests.

We shall for the present only select the more copious and the more reliable branch of their researches, viz., the vegetable Materia Modica, and devote our future papers to a consideration of the subject of the sensible properties and apparent uses of Aryan medicinal substances.

The query naturally suggests itself to any one now observing this "poor shadow" of the Aryan land — Is the sun of India's glory set never to rise again? — a question that comprehends in abstract all the philosophical, scientific, and even political interests affecting the country. And yet, how invaluable soever in its nature the point be, an answer to it is all but impossible. Hope, however, that darling supporter of humanity, never forsakes while there is still life, and makes every loving heart turn sufficiently credulous to fancy at the last a speedy recovery. Hence — the propriety for a native Hindu taking counsel with himself.

Shall, then, our glorious Aryavarta lie always dark? No, she cannot; — she that yet takes pride in having been the earliest quarter of civilization on the globe, the first hotbed of sciences, the oldest repository of arts, and the most ancient seat of learning and improvements; the land whence such as Solon, Pythagoras, Aristotle, Ammonius Saccas and Ptolemy drew their minds. Where was that wide-famed Republic then, or that time-honoured mistress when thou, Queen of all Fairy Lands, wast already shining with riches, grandeur, and refinement? Art not thou the original archetype, from which the elder Egypt copied her peculiar priest craft? Was not thy wealth, as it is to this day, the envy and ambition of the Dariuses, the Alexanders, the Antoni and Maximii, as of those who preceded them even in earlier days? What, then, has made thee this day niggard all and worn out, to wail, darkling under demolitions and depredations? Ah, MOTHER! those days of thine are past, those
thy glories lost, and even those brave sons of thine that crowned thy beauty and formed thy greatest pride, are gone — gone for ever! Such mighty princes as Rama Chandra, Yudhistir, Asoka, and Bikra-Maditya kind, benevolent, generous and magnanimous; monarchs, so much unlike those of the present day, the tyrannical, oppressive, selfish, and debauched — themselves immortals though mortal beings, where are they? Heroes like Lakhmana, Bhismu, Drona, Karna and Arjuna, whose very names were thy honour, whither are they gone? When will again arise sages like Janaka or Balmikee, Veda-Byasa or Manu, Patanjali or Goutama — saints, whose works and deeds have made them immortals, like the Phoenix of old! The irresistible scythe of Time has mowed them down, with all thy glories and power too. The hateful Crescent first forced in its way and did all but complete thy ruin. . . . . . .

But "Providence protects the fallen:" the Cross at length took up the Moslem's pace, and redeemed (Heaven willing) the disabled and captive Queen. So MOTHER, despair not! The breath that once inspired thy latent spirits shall soon revive. A great aid is come to thee: weeping so long in the wilderness, thy sighs shall now be heard — The THEOSOPHIST shall lead thy sons along.

Such being the importance of the worthy Journal and its great originators,* the Theosophical Society, there arises this "Strange Revery" which I have made the heading of this article. It is a revery, indeed, but neither unaccountable nor inconsiderate — rather the issue of ardent deliberation, — to wit, a craving of the contributor to have himself enlisted as a Fellow of this great body. He seeks thereby no name or fame, before the public. A man of a philanthropic turn of mind, but in circumstances of life little favourable to the end, he desires but to gratify his desire to see himself moving within the "Universal Brotherhood of Humanity." He is not one of those "dark lantern visages" that seeks to shed light but upon his own path, and cause all around an universal gloom; but one, whose soul generates in him an universal love. He is really of one mind with the Theosophists on questions of theology and sectarianism — or more properly, he is a Hindu
Brahmin obeying the Liberalism of the Vedas. Thus, he considers himself in no way unfit and is willing to follow the prescribed rules of the Society. Favored by such conclusions and further emboldened by the express statement in the last number of the Journal that "The Society's members represent the most varied nationalities and races, and were born and educated in the most dissimilar creeds and social conditions;" and also that "a certain number have scarcely yet acquired any definite belief but are in a state of expectancy;" the writer strengthens himself with the hope of success, and wishes the readers in general to watch the progress of affairs with eyes of generosity and hope.

* Our welcome contributor is a Rajput and imbued, apparently, with that chivalrous ardour which ever characterized that warrior race. While disclaiming for our journal or Society, all pretence of assuming the leadership, or aspiring to anything more than a very humble part in the great work of Indian national reform, we nevertheless affirm the sincerity of our motives, and publish without emendation our brother's words, in the hope and belief that his noble patriotism will awaken responsive echoes all over the land. For the regeneration of India must be effected by the efforts of her own children. — ED., THEOS.

Every man of Aryan descent should feel pride, and rejoice with the fullest heart over the establishment of such a mouth-piece, and uphold to the utmost limit of his capacity his only medium of communication for him with all the contemporary advanced nations of both the East and the West. Does not this signalize a most remarkable epoch in the revival of the Aryan people? To all who are not blind, it most assuredly does. No hesitation, therefore, can there be, on the part of any sensible Hindu to resign himself into the hands of the great "Republic of Conscience," to enjoy God's free Light in company with those who have made that phrase their peculiar watchword.

JEYPORE, November 7th.

Next month we will give an account of the splendid demonstration on the 29th alt. to commemorate the opening of the Theosophical Society's Library. It was a memorable event in Bombay.

The nineteenth century is the century of struggle and strife, par excellence; of religious, political, social, and philosophical conflict. The biologists could and would not remain silent witnesses of this memorable crisis. Clad from head to foot in the panoply of exact sciences; hardened in battles against ignorance, superstition and falsehood, they rushed to their places in the ranks of the fighters and as those having authority began the work of demolition.

But who destroys ought to rebuild; and exact science does nothing of the kind, at least so far as the question of the highest psychological aspirations of humanity are concerned. Strange to say, yet nevertheless an incontrovertible fact, the duty has fallen upon the daily augmenting body of Spiritualists, to sweep away the mangled debris of the warfare, and rebuild from the ruins of the past something more tangible, more unassailable than the dreamy doctrines of theology. From the first, Spiritualism has fortified its positions by ocular demonstrations, slowly but surely replacing fanciful hypothesis and blind faith with a series of phenomena which, when genuine, invite the crucial tests of the most exacting experimentalists.

It is one of the most curious features of the day, to see science in her double role of the aggressor and attacked. And it is a sight, indeed, to follow the steady advance of the columns of "infidelity" against the strong-holds of the Church, simultaneously with the pushing back of materialism towards its last entrenchments by the spiritualists. Both the fundamental doctrines of theology, and the cold negations of science, have of late been successfully assailed by learned and skilful writers. And, it can hardly be denied, that there are strong indications of wavering on the part of both the attacked parties, with an evident disposition to capitulate. The "Speaker's Commentary," followed by the new edition of the revised Bible, giving up, as it despairingly does, the hitherto treasured Mosaic miracles, and the recent additions to the party of the Spiritualists of more than of one great man of science, are impressive facts. Canon Farrar, of Westminster Abbey, destroys the old-fashioned belief
in the eternity of hell, and the veteran and learned philosopher, Dr. Fichte of Germany, dying, all but confesses his belief in the philosophy of Spiritualism! Alas, for the Philistines of Biology; this Goliath whom they but put forth as their champion was slain by a single medium, and the spear which seemed as big and strong "as a weaver's beam," has pierced their own sides!

The most recent development of this double conflict is a work which comes just in time to palliate the evil effects of another one which preceded it. We refer to the "Mechanism of Man," by Mr. Sergeant Cox, following the "Die Anthropogenie" of Profesor Haeckel. The latter had sown wind and reaped the whirlwind; and a furious hurricane it was at one time. The public had begun to look up to the Jena professor as to a new saviour from the "dark superstitions" of the forefathers. Reaction had come. Between the dying infallibility of the Churches, the not over-satisfactory results of Spiritualism, and, for the average masses, far too deep and philosophical researches of, Herbert Spencer, Bain, and the great lights of exact Science the public was hesitating and perplexed. On the one hand, it had a strong, and ever growing desire to follow a progress that went hand in hand with science; but, notwithstanding its late conquests, science finds missing links at every step, dreary blanks in its knowledge, 'chasms'
on whose brink its votaries shudder, fearing to cross. On the other hand, the absurdly unjust ridicule cast upon the believers in phenomena, held back the general public from personal investigation. True, the Church or rather the "schoolmen's philosophy," miscalled Christianity, as Huxley has it, was daily offering to compromise, and with but a slight effort of diplomacy one might remain within the fold, while disbelieving even in a personal devil, without risking to "smell of the faggot."

But the spell was broken and the prestige quite gone. For faith there is no middle ground. It must be either completely blind, or it will see too much. Like water, it ceases to be pure as soon as the smallest foreign ingredient is introduced.

The public is a big child; cunning yet trusting, diffident and yet credulous. Is it cause for wonder then, that while it hesitated between the conflicting parties, a man like Haeckel, vain and presumptuous, notwithstanding his great learning, ever ready to dogmatize upon problems for the solution of which humanity has thirsted for ages, and which no true philosophical mind will dare presume to answer conclusively — secured at one time the greatest attention for his Anthropogeny? Between men like Balfour Stewart, Dubois Raymond, and other honest scientists, who confess their ignorance, and one who proclaims that he has solved every riddle of life, and that nature has disclosed to him her last mystery, the public will rarely hesitate. As one of Haeckel's critics remarks, a street quack, with his panacea medicine, will often secure a far more liberal and numerous audience than an honest and cautious physician. Anthropogeny has plunged more minds into a profound materialism than any
other book of which we have knowledge. Even the great Huxley was at one time inclined (see "Darwin and Haeckel," Pop. Science Monthly for March 1875), more than was needed, to support Haeckel's views, and laud his book which he called "a milestone indicating the progress of the theory of evolution," a "real live book, full of power and genius, and based upon a foundation of practical, original work, to which few living men can offer a parallel." Whether the father of Protoplasm continues to think so to this day, is a matter of little consequence, though we doubt it. The public, at least, was speedily disabused by the combined efforts of the greatest minds of Europe.

In this famous work of Haeckel's, not only is man refused a soul, but an ancestor is forced upon him, in the shape of the formless, gelatinous Bathybius Haeckelis, — the protoplasmic root of man — which dwelt in the slime at the bottom of the seas "before the oldest of the fossiliferous rocks were deposited." Having transformed himself, in good time, into a series of interesting animals — some consisting of but one bowel, and others of a single nose (Monorhinae), all evolved out of Professor Haeckel's fathomless ingenuity, our genealogical line is led up to, and stops abruptly at the soulless man!

We have nothing whatever against the physical side of the theory of evolution, the general theory of which we thoroughly accept ourselves; neither against Haeckel's worms, fishes, mamals, nor, finally, the tailless anthropoid — all of which he introduces to fill up the hiatus between ape and man — as our forefathers. No more do we object to his inventing names for them and coupling them with his own. What we object to is the utter unconcern of the Jena professor as to the other side of the theory of evolution: to the evolution of spirit, silently developing and asserting itself more and more with every newly perfected form.

What we again object to is that the ingenuous evolutionist not only purposely neglects, but in several places actually sneers at the idea of a spiritual evolution, progressing hand in hand with the physical, though he might have done it as scientifically as he did the rest and — more honestly. He would thereby have missed, perhaps, the untimely praises of the protoplasmic Huxley, but won for his Anthropogeny the thanks of the public. Per se, the theory of evolution is not new, for every cosmogony — even the Jewish Genesis, for him who understands it — has it. And Manu who replaces special creation with periodical revolutions or
followed, many thousands of years ago, the chain of transformation from the lowest animal to the highest — man, even more comprehensively if less scientifically (in the modern sense of the word) than Haeckel. Had the latter held more to the spirit of the modern discoveries of biology and physiology than to their dead-letter and his own theories, he would have led, perhaps, a new hegira of science separating itself violently from the cold materialism of the age. No one — not even the staunchest apostle of Positivism — will deny that the more we study the organisms of the animal world, and assure ourselves that the organ of all psychical manifestation is the nervous system, the more we find the necessity of plunging deeper into the metaphysical world of psychology, beyond the boundary line hitherto marked for us by the materialists. The line of demarcation between the two modes of life of the vegetable and animal worlds is yet terro incognita for every naturalist. And no more
will any one protest against the scientifically established truism that intelligence manifests itself in direct proportion with the cerebral development, in the consecutive series of the animal world. Following, then, the development of this system alone, — from the automatic motions produced by the simple process of what is called the reflex action of the ascidian mollusk, for instance, the instinctive motions of the bee, up to the highest order of mammalians and ending, finally, with man — if we invariably find an unbroken ratio of steady increase in cerebral development, hence — a corresponding increase of reasoning powers, of intelligence, — the deduction becomes irresistible that there must be a spiritual as well as a physical evolution.

This is the A. B. C. of physiology. And are we to be told that there is no further development, no future evolution for man? That there is a prospect on earth for the caterpillar to become a butterfly, for the tadpole to develope into a higher form, and for every bird to live after it has rid itself of its shell, while for man, who has evoluted from the lowest to the highest point of physical and mental development on this earth, all further conscious, sentient development is to be arrested by the dissolution of his material organization? That, just as he has reached the culminating point, and the world of soul begins unfolding before his mind; just as the assurance of another and a better life begins dawning upon him; his memory, reason, feeling, consciousness, intelligence, and all his highest aspirations are to desert him in one brief moment, and go out into eternal darkness? Were it so, knowledge, science, life, and all nature itself, would be the most idiotic of farces. If we are
told that such a research does not pertain to the province of positive sciences, that no exact and accurate deductions are to be made out of purely metaphysical premises, then we will enquire, why should then deductions, as hypothetical deductions, from purely imaginary data, as in the case of Haeckel's Bathybius and tailless anthropoid, be accepted as scientific truths, as no such missing link has ever yet been found, any more than it has been proved that the unvertebrated moner, the grand parent of the lovely amphioxous, or that philosophical recluse — the Bathybius, ever existed?

But now, peace to the ashes of our direct ancestor! The venerable Professor Virchof, backed by an army of infuriated naturalists, passing like the powerful khamsin, the wind of the desert, over the plains of hypothetical speculations, destroyed all our best hopes for a closer acquaintance with our noble relatives of the slimy ooze. Beginning with Bathybius, whom he dragged out of his sea-mud — to show he was not there — the Berlin savant evinced no more respect for the Simiae Catarrhinae, (our tail-blessed ancestor) whom he hurled back into non-being. He went further and crushed out of existence even the beautiful tailless ape — the missing link! So strong was the reaction of thought as to the merits of Haeckel's work that it well nigh knocked off his legs even the innocent though first cause of Anthropogeny — the great Charles Darwin, himself.

But the mischief is done, and it requires mighty powerful restoratives to bring the ex-admirers of Haeckel back to a belief in the human soul. Sergeant Cox's "The Mechanism of Man: An Answer To The Question: What Am I?" now in its third edition, will remain as one of the most powerful answers to the soul-destroying sophistry of Haeckel and his like. It is quite refreshing to find that a work upon such an unwelcome subject — to the men of science — a book which treats of psychology and its phenomena, is so eagerly welcomed by the educated public. In reviewing it, a London weekly very truly remarks that, "The Scientists have had a capital time of it lately; they have been able to raise a cloud of doubts about the most serious questions of life; butthey have not been able to solve one of the difficulties they raised. Into the arena which they occupied few men dared to enter and withstand them, so that the boastful cry the Scientists raised has gone echoing far and wide, that
the old foundations of belief in immortality were myths, fit for weakminded people. In Sergeant Cox, however, the timid believers have found champion able to fight the Scientists with their own weapons; able to pursue the theories raised by them to their ultimate conclusions; able to unmask the pretentious arrogance of men who would destroy simply because they cannot appreciate; men who would pull down, but cannot build up anything to take the place of the wrecked structure." But we will now let the author speak for himself:

"The Scientists began by denial of the facts and phenomena, not by disproof of them; by argument a priori that they cannot be and therefore are not. That failing, the next step was to discredit the witnesses. They were not honest; if honest they were not competent; if competent by general intelligence and experience) in the particular instances they were the victims of illusion or delusion. That is the present position of the controversy. The assertion is still repeated here, With entire confidence, that the Mechanism of Man is directed and determined by some intelligent force within itself; that the existence of that force is proved by the facts and phenomena attendant upon the motions of that mechanism in its normal and its abnormal conditions; that this force is by the same evidence proved to be the product of Something other than the molecular mechanism of the body; that this something is an entity distinct from that molecular structure, capable of
action beyond and apart from it; that this something is what is called SOUL, and that this soul lives after it has parted from the body."

This subject, that man has a soul — which so many men of science, especially physicians and physiologists deny — is treated in the work under notice with the utmost ability. Numberless new avenues — as the result of such a knowledge when proved — are opened to us by this able pioneer; and under his skilful treatment that hope which was blighted for the moment brutal hand of Positivism, is rekindled in the reader's and death is made to lose its terrors. So confident is the author that upon the solution of this enigma — which is one but to those who will not see — depend the most important questions to humanity, such as disease, old age, chronic and nervous sufferings, many of which are now considered as beyond human help, that he thinks that a perfect acquaintance with psychology will be of that utmost help in treating even the most obstinate diseases. He pointedly reminds his reader that,

"It seems scarcely credible, but it is literally true that the most learned physician cannot tell us by what process any one medicine he administers performs its cures! He can say only that experience has shown certain effects as often found to follow the exhibition of certain drugs. But he certainly does not know how those drugs produce those effects. It is strange and distressing to observe what irrational prejudices still prevail in all matters connected with the physiology of body and mind, and their mutual relationship and influences, even among persons otherwise well informed and who deem themselves educated. It is still more strange that not the least prejudiced nor the least instructed in these subjects are to be found in the profession whose business it is to keep the human machine in sound working condition."

Sergeant Cox need scarcely hope to count the practising physicians among his admirers. His last remark is more applicable to Chinese medicine, whose practitioners are paid by their patients only so long as they preserve their health, and have their pay stopped at the first symptom of disease in their patrons — than in Europe. It seems rather the "business," of the European doctor to keep the human machine in an unsound condition." Human suffering is for European physicians, as the torments of purgatory the priest — a perennial source of income.

But the author suggests that "the cause of this ignorance of the laws of life, of Mental Physiology and of Psycholog" is that "they are not studied as we study the structure which that Life moves and that Intelligence directs." He asks whether it has "never occurred to the Physician and the Mental Philosopher that possibly in the laws of life, in the physiology of mind, in the relationship of the conscious Self and the body, more even than in the structure itself, are to be found the causes of many of the maladies to which that structure is subject. Therefore, that in the investigation of these laws the secret is to be sought of the operation of remedies, rather than in the molecular structure where for centuries the Doctors have been exclusively hunting for them with so little success?"

Dr. Wm. A. Hammond, of New York, the famous professor of diseases of the mind and nervous system, experimented for years with the celebrated "Perkins' tractors," metal discs, whose fame at one time nearly came to grief, through the cunning fraud of an English speculator. This man, who was making a specialty of the metallic treatment, was detected in imitating the expensive gold, silver, copper, and nickel rings, with rings of wood painted or gilded. But the results were not changed; patients were cured! Now this is a clear case of psychological and mesmeric power. And Dr. Hammond himself calls it "nothing more than the power of one mind over another." This noted materialist is thoroughly convinced that if one person suggests an idea to another who has complete faith in that person's power, the one acted upon will experience all the sensations the operator may suggest to him. He has made a number of experiments and even published presumably learned papers upon the subject. And yet
Mesmerism, Spiritualism, and occult psychological phenomena in general, upon the investigation of which Sergeant Cox lays the greatest stress, have no bitterer enemy or more active opponent than the New York celebrity. We need only recall his dogmatic attitude in the case of Miss Mollie Fancher, of Brooklyn, a respectable young girl who, according to the statement of Dr. Charles E. West, has lived without any food for over nine years. This extraordinary girl never sleeps — her frequent trances being the only rest she obtains; she reads sealed letters as though they were open; describes distant friends; though completely blind, perfectly discriminates colours; and finally, though her right hand is rigidly drawn up behind her head, by a permanent paralysis, makes embroidery upon canvas, and produces in wax, without having taken a lesson in the art, and with neither a knowledge of botany nor even models to copy, flowers of a most marvellously natural appearance. In the case of this phenomenal
patient, there are numbers of thoroughly reliable and well educated witnesses to testify to the genuineness of the phenomena. The joint testimony of several respectable clergymen, of Professor West, of Mr. H. Parkhurst, the astronomer, and of such physicians as Drs. Speir, Ormiston, Kissam and Mitchell, is on record. With all this examined and proved, Dr. Hammond, notwithstanding his personal experience of the "power of mind over matter," had not a jot to give the reporter in explanation of the phenomenon, but the words "humbug! . . . a clear case of deception! . . . simply the deception of a hysterical girl, Sir". . . "But has she deceived all these clergymen and physicians, and for years?" inquired the reporter.

"Oh, that's nothing. Clergymen are the most gullible men in the world, and physicians who have not made a study of nervous diseases are apt to be imposed upon by these girls" . . . (The N. Y. Sun, of Nov. 25th, 1878).

We doubt whether even Sergeant Cox's able book, though he is President of the Psychological Society of Great Britain and ought to be a competent witness, will make anymore impression upon such a mind as that of the physician Hammond than a ball of snow upon the rock. And since the multitude suffers itself to be led by such sciolists as he, this able book may have to wait another generation before receiving that meed of appreciation which it merits. And yet, no author treating on psychology has ever built up with more scientific precision or force of argument his proofs of the existence of a soul in man, and its manifestation in the "mechanism of man." He concludes the work with the following remarks:

"Scientists may sneer at Psychology as being visionary science, based upon mere assumption and dealing with that whose very existence is problematical. But its subject matter is as real as that with which they deal. Even were it not so, the more important it would be that the study of it should be pursued, with an honest endeavour to ascertain if the foundation on which it is erected be sound or baseless, — that if, after due investigation, it be found to be false, the world may cease from a vain labor; but that, if it be proved a truth, Man way have the blessed assurance that, as a fact, and not merely as a faith, he has a Soul and inherits an Immortality.

We wish all such learned authors completest success in their noble efforts to bring back humanity to the Light of Truth — but we have but little hope for the XIXth century.

We begin with a strange story from the Gainesville Eagle — an American journal: —

"Some time ago Dr. Stephenson was prospecting the vast hornblende and chloritic slate formation between Gainesville and Jefferson, and found a singular rock on the land of Mr. Frank Harrison, which he considers one of the most interesting and inexplicable productions of the laws of chemical affinity. The boulder of hornblende weighs nearly a ton, is black, and crystalized through it in seams about one-eighth of an inch thick of white quartz are the figures 1791. They are about four inches long and placed at equal distances from each other. It is common in all plutonic rock to see seams of quartz traverse the granite, gneiss, hornblende and other classes of rocks in various directions, from one-eighth of an inch to a foot or more, which sometimes cross each other, but never with the regularity and symmetry of this. It has not been one thousand years since the Arab invented our numerals, from 1 to 10, and we find here in perfect form the same figures, made by the laws of chemical affinity on the oldest
rocks, which formed the crust of the earth countless millions of years before there was a vegetable or animal existence."

It may be a meaningless freak of nature, and it may be the freak of a sensational and not over scrupulous reporter: either is possible, and a great caution is certainly required before we credit such an extraordinary piece of news. But what is a freak of nature? The effect of a natural cause; not even a "freak" can happen otherwise. And yet, when this cause is evident who ever presumes to go any deeper into its origination? Not the scientists; for these generally leave the prior causes to take care of themselves. Some superstitious souls and the Christians might attribute the mysterious figures to some occult and even a most intelligent cause. Some may see a connection between them and the French revolution; others with the finger of God Himself, who traced them for some unfathomable reason, to seek to penetrate which would be a sacrilege. But now, times and men are changed. The strong-backed, convenient maid-of-all-work called "Will of God" and "Providence," upon which these amiable and unconscious
blasphemers (regarded as very pious Christians) pile all the garbage and evils of imperfect nature — has a time of rest. The All-Perfect is no more held responsible for every calamity and inexplicable event, except by a few of the above-named pious souls. Least of all by the men of science. The Christian "Will of God" in company with the Mahomedan Kismet are handed over to the emotional Methodist and the irrepressible Moolah.

Hence, the cause of the figures — if figures there are — comes within the category of scientific research. Only, in this case, the latter must be taken in its broadest sense, that which embraces within the area of natural sciences psychology, and even metaphysics. Consequently, if this story of the marvellous boulder should prove something more than a newspaper hoax, originating with an idle reporter, we will have, perhaps, some comments to offer. We may, then, strengthen our arguments by giving a few sentences from a curious manuscript belonging to a Fellow of the Theosophical Society in Germany, a learned mystic, who tells us that the document is already on its way to India. It is a sort of diary, written in those mystical characters, half ciphers, half alphabet, adopted by the Rosicrucians during the previous two centuries, and the key to which, is now possessed by only a very few mystics. Its author is the famous and mysterious Count de St. Germain; he, who before and during the French
Revolution puzzled and almost terrified every capital of Europe, and some crowned Heads; and of whom such a number of weird stories are told. All comment, now, would be premature. The bare suggestion of there being anything more mysterious than a blind "freak" of nature in this particular find, is calculated to raise a scornful laugh from every quarter, with the exception, perhaps, of some Spiritualists — and their natural allies, the Theosophists.

Our space is scant, so we will make room for another, and far more extraordinary story, endorsed by no less a personage than Marshal Mac-Mahon, ex-President of the Republic of France and credited — as in religious duty bound — by some hundred millions of Roman Catholics. We admit it the more willingly since, had any such story originated with either the Theosophists or the Spiritualists, it would have been straightway ridiculed and set down as a cock-and-bull fable. But circumstances alter cases — with the Catholics; none, however sceptical at heart, will dare laugh (above his breath) at a story of supernatural "Miracles" worked by the Madonna and her Saints, or by Satan and his imps. For such "miracles" the Church holds a patent. The fact tacitly conceded, if not always secretly believed, by such a tremendous body of Christians for any one to discredit the power of the devil, even in this age of free thought, makes him ranked at once with the despised infidels. Only the
Spiritualists and Theosophists have made themselves culpable in the eyes of the panegyrists of reason, and deserve to be called "lunatics" for believing in phenomena produced by natural causes. Even Protestants are warned against pooh-poohing the story we here quote; for they too, are bound by their Calvinistic and other dogmas to believe in the power of Satan — a power accorded the enemy of Man by the ever inscrutable — "Will of God."

A STARTLING STORY: MARSHAL McMAHON'S STRANGE ADVENTURE IN ALGIERS, — is the sensational title given to the letter of a correspondent, by the Catholic Mirror of Baltimore (Sept. 13,1879), in copying it from the New-York World. We print the narrative in full:

"Sir — One day when talking with a well-known man in London, the subject of Spiritualism came up. Referring to the late Emperor Napoleon's belief in the great delusion of the day, my friend told me that he was once at a grand dinner in Paris, at which many notables were present, and the following incident occurred. A member of the Imperial Court was telling about Mr. D. D. Home's exploits at the Tuileries; how that in his presence a table was caused to float from the floor to the ceiling with the Emperor seated upon it, and by no visible power; and other similar tales. When the gentleman had finished, Marshal MacMahon, who was present, said, 'That reminds me of an experience of mine,' which was as follows: 'It was when I was a sub-officer in Algiers that the affair I am about to speak of took place. The men of my command were mostly natives, and we had been much troubled by the large number of deaths and mysterious disappearances which had taken place among them, and we had taken great pains to
find out the causes, but were unable to do so. I had understood that the men were given to the practice of necromancy and the worship of strange gods. Indeed, I had myself seen many remarkable feats performed by them, and it was therefore no great surprise to me when an old sergeant, who had heard me express my intention to ferret out the mysteries, came to me and, in a timid manner, suggested that it was generally believed by the soldiers that a certain corporal could tell more about them than any one else if he chose. This corporal I had noticed as a man who did his duty perfectly, but had little or nothing to say to any one, and always went about alone. He was from the interior of Africa, tall, gaunt, with long, clear-cut features of remarkably stern expression, and the most remarkable eyes I ever beheld. Indeed, it was not extraordinary that he should be said to have 'the evil eye,' for if any one ever possessed that power it was he.

'Bent on finding out the mysteries, I sent for the corporal, and told him that I had understood that be could tell me about them and that he must do it. At first he appeared confused, and began to mutter to himself, finally saying he knew nothing about the matter; but, when I, putting on my sternest look, told him that I knew he could make an explanation, and that, unless he did so, I would have him punished, he drew himself up, and, giving me a long and penetrating look, said that being punished would make no difference to him, but that, if I was so anxious to know the mysteries, I must go with him alone to a certain place at midnight, when the moon was in the third quarter, if I had courage enough to do so without telling any one of my object or trip, and that then he would show me the causes of the deaths and disappearances; otherwise, he would tell me nothing, punish him as I might. Without acceding to or refusing his strange request, I dismissed him, and pondering on his proposal, I walked towards
the mess. The place the corporal had mentioned was a clump of half a dozen trees, situated about three-quarters of a mile outside of our lines on the edge of the desert. At first, I was inclined to think that it was a plot to rob or murder me, and my impulse was to think no more of it; accordingly, I told the officers at the mess, and various was the advice I received, some to go and some not. However, on thinking the matter over, I resolved not to appear afraid to go at any rate; so, after having quietly examined the spot to see if there were any pit-falls or chances for ambush, and finding the ground smooth and solid and no chance for approach in any direction without discovery, I resolved to go, and, sending for the corporal, told him my intention of accepting his proposal. As he turned away, I noticed his eyes gleam with almost fiendish delight, which was not calculated to reassure me. On the appointed night, I started out with him, and nothing was said by either until we reached the spot; here his
manner suddenly changed, and, from the subdued and almost servile bearing of the soldier, became stern and authoritative. Then he ordered me to remove everything metallic from my person; at this I felt sure that he had a plan to rob me, but, as I had gone too far to withdraw, and partly thinking it might be only a part of his performance to require this, I accordingly took off my sword, and my purse and watch from my pockets, and hung them on a convenient branch, thinking this would be enough; but he insisted that I must remove everything metallic or all would be in vain. I then took off everything except my underclothing, and said all was gone. At this he appeared pleased, and stripped himself entirely, then, drawing a circle around himself on the ground, he commanded me that, whatever should happen, I should not venture within it.

'He then said he was prepared and would make everything clear to me provided I said nothing and did nothing. Then, naked as he was, standing on the grass, he began a series of incantations, and, standing up straight in front of me, and looking me in the eye, he suddenly became rigid and as suddenly disappeared like a flash. Until then the moon was shining brightly around, and his form stood out clear-cut against the sky, but as I rubbed my eyes to look, it suddenly became dark and a clap of thunder sounded, after which it became clear again, and as it did so a column of smoke arose from where the man had stood. This gradually resolved itself, strange to say, into the man himself, but he appeared transfigured; his face, which before was stern, had now become fiendish and terrible, and his eyes flashed fire. As I looked, his gaze transfixed me and my hair began to rise. As his look continued I heard screams as of agony and his expression suddenly changing to one of terror, he cried, pointing to my
breast, 'You, have lied.' As he said this there was a flash of light with a loud report, and he had again disappeared, and all was clear moonlight around. As he had pointed to my breast, I involuntarily put my hand up and felt a little leaden medal of the Virgin under my shirt, which I had quite forgotten when removing my clothes. Almost thunder struck with the whole scene, seeing no man visible and fearing then an attack, I rushed to the tree where my things were, I seized my sword, and was astonished to find it so hot that I could hardly hold it. Calling aloud the man's name, I ran quickly around the clump of trees and looked in vain in every direction for him. The moon was then shining brightly, and any dark figure running or lying down could easily be seen on the light sand. Seizing my clothes I hastily pulled them on and ran as fast as I could to the barracks. At once I called out the guard and, mounting myself, gave orders to scour the country in every direction, and bring every one found to me.
But it was all in vain, for after hours' searching no traces could be found of any one, and all I had for my pains was that the men, surprised at my sudden appearance and strange orders, simply supposed that I had become temporarily insane. I said nothing, however, and the next day after roll-call the corporal was reported absent. I had search quietly made for him for some time, but he has never turned up from that day to this.' Silence reigned for some time at that table, various dignified heads were scratched and quizzical expressions assumed. Finally the silence was broken by the question, 'How do you. account for it, Marshal?' The Marshal quietly smiled, and said, 'I don't account for it.' 'And your watch?' said another gentleman. 'Ah,' replied the Marshal, 'that is what I consider the most remarkable thing. The next day when I went back to the place I not only found my watch and the remainder of my things, but the corporal's things were also there, and the whole place seemed undisturbed.'" E. B.

Unlike the Marshal, we have something to say. The Spiritualists would advance a very easy and well known theory to "account" for it, and the Theosophists — though, perhaps, slightly modifying it, would follow suit. But then, they would have the great body of Roman Catholics against them. Their theory, or, shall we say, "infallible dogma"? — is, if the story be true, that the Arab corporal had sold his soul to the Father of Evil. But, though presumably all powerful for mischief, old Nick found his match in the leaden charm, or medal of the Virgin; and, gnashing his teeth had to take to his heels before the presence of the image of the Queen of Heaven. Well, one theory is as good as any other when we come to hypotheses. But then, — the infidels might ask — why not give a slight extra stretch to that divine power, and rid humanity at once and for ever of that eternal mischief-maker, who, "as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour"? Weak is humanity and faltering
the steps of man! Why not, at one clip, save it from the snares of the devil; the more so as humanity, if incapable of resisting such a power, is weak through no fault of its own, but because it so pleased kind Providence? Surely, if a simple leaden amulet has such virtue of putting to fight the devil, how much more ought the blessed Virgin herself to do. Especially since of late she has taken to visiting in person and so often the famous grotto at Lourdes.

But then — dreadful thought! — how could the wicked be sentenced to eternal perdition? Whither could the sinner direct his trembling steps, when once that kingdom "where their worm dieth not, and the fire is never quenched" is annexed by the Romish Imperial Raj of Heaven? Impassable chasm, sharp horns of a dilemma! So long as it bears its name, Christianity cannot get rid of the devil, without, so to say committing a most dreadful, unthinkable suicide. Some years ago the pious and holy Cardinal, Father Ventura de Raulica expressed his opinion upon the subject. "To demonstrate," he says, "the existence of Satan, is to re-establish one of the fundamental dogmas of the Church, which serve as a basis for Christianity, and without which it would be but a name. . . . " And, the very Catholic Chevalier Agenor des Monsseaux adds, — Satan is "the Chief Pillar of Faith. . . . . . . . But for him, the Saviour, the Crucified, the Redeemer, would be but the most
ridiculous of supernumeraries, and the Cross an insult to good sense." (Moeurs et Pratiques des Demons, p. 10.)

Thus we see that the next and most logical move of the infallible Church would be to institute a yearly vote of thanks — a Te Deum — to the Devil. This happy thought is not copyrighted, and his Holiness is welcome to it.

The more so, as it seems that again, for some inscrutable and providential reasons better known in heaven than comprehended upon earth, not only the Devil, but even simple mortals are allowed to do the deeds of darkness. In the following horrifying trick, played lately at the above-mentioned miracle working grotto of Lourdes, we find the "Protectress" utterly incapable of protecting even herself. We copy this sad tale of human infamy also from our pious contemporary — The Catholic Mirror.

DESECRATION AT LOURDES. — A very strange story comes to us from France — a story difficult to credit, but our authority is trustworthy. All who have been to the miraculous shrine at Lourdes must have been struck by the number of trophies that are the offerings of pious pilgrims, or that the quick recurring miracles have collected in the place. There is a touching appropriateness in the devotion that makes the grateful pilgrim offer at the shrine the mementoes of his disease which the mercy of heaven have rendered useless. All the walls at Lourdes were hung with crutches, and wooden legs, and wooden arms to which scrolls were attached with dates and names authenticating the miracles. These trophies, it appears, excited the malignity of the unbelievers. It was a hard thing to scoff at the miracles with such visible testimony of their truth before the eyes of the world. Therefore it was resolved that the testimony must be destroyed. In the dead of the night some miscreants penetrated
to the shrine, the religious trophies were collected in a heap and set in flames. They were reduced to ashes. A beautiful rose tree that sprang from a cleft in the rocks was destroyed by the fire and the face of the statue of the Virgin was scorched and blackened by the smoke. It would be difficult in all history to find a parallel for this dastardly and disgraceful outrage by these "apostles of reason and liberty."

The "apostles of reason and liberty" are criminal and ought to be punished — as incendiaries. But the majesty of the Law once vindicated, ought they not, as "apostles of reason" to be allowed to respectfully put a few questions to their judges As, for instance: how is it that "our blessed Lady of Lourdes," so prompt at producing "miracles" of the most astounding character, passively suffered such an appalling personal outrage? That was just the moment to show her power, confound the "infidels," and vindicate her "miracles." A better opportunity was never lost. As it is, the criminals scorch and blacken the face of the statue and — get away unscorched, even by the fire of (the Catholic) heaven. Really, it was very indiscreet in our contemporary to publish this story! Perhaps these "apostles" were the disciples and followers of the Zouave Jacob, whose fame as a healer is not inferior to that of our Lady of Lourdes and the miraculous water. Or, it may be, they had known J. R.
Newton, the celebrated American mesmeric "healer," whose large reception rooms are always hung, no less than the walls of the grotto, with "trophies" of his mesmeric power, "with crutches, wooden legs, and wooden . . . . . arms"(?) — no! not with wooden arms, for this implies previous amputation of natural arms. And almost magical as are the healing powers of our respected friend Dr. Newton, we doubt whether he has ever claimed the gift of endowing human beings with the extraordinary peculiarity of a cray-fish — i. e, of having a new arm to grow out of an amputated stump, as seems to have been the case at Lourdes, — according to the Catholic Mirror.

But it is not alone the wondrous "grotto" that proved powerless before the destructive element. The lightning (of God?) showed itself no more a respecter of the house of God and holy shrines than those firebolts, the "apostles of reason and liberty." The number of churches, camp-meeting tents, tabernacles and altars destroyed, during these last two years, by hurricane and lightning, in Europe and America, is appalling. And now: —

"The famous sanctuary of Madonna de Valmala, situated in the valley of the same name in Switzerland, was struck by lightning on Sunday, August 24, whilst the priest was saying Mass at the altar. Six people were struck down by the fatal fluid, one of whom, a little girl who was kneeling near her parents, was killed on the spot, and the others are injured beyond hope of recovery. Several persons who were near the door had the soles of their shoes torn off." (Catholic Mirror, Sept. 13th.)

Dear, dear! The little girl killed while kneeling in prayer must have been a very wicked child, — perhaps the daughter of an "apostle of reason," — and all the rest "sinners." Truly inscrutable are thy ways, O kind Providence! Not understanding, we have but to submit. Moreover, to fully satisfy our doubts, and tranquillize our unrestful brains, we have but to bear in mind that which the good and Pious Jesuit padres of St. Xavier's College, Bombay — known throughout Christendom as the most acute logicians — teach us, namely: that it is but in the wicked logic of men that 2 and 2 necessarily make 4: God, for whom everything is possible, is not so circumscribed: if it pleases Him to command that by a miracle 2+2 should become 5, why, even Sir Isaac Newton would have to put up with the new formula.

The Theosophical Society acknowledges, with many thanks to the donors, the following donations of books and pamphlets to the Library:

From H. Rivett Carnac, Esq., B. C. S., Companion of the Order of the Indian Empire Fellow of the University of Bombay, Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, &c., &c.: —

"Archaelogical Notes on Ancient Sculptures on Rocks in Kumaon, India;" Rough Notes on the Snake Symbol in India, in connection with the Worship of Siva"; "Descriptions of some Stone Carvings, collected in a tour through the Doab, from Cawnnpore to Mainpuri."

From the Author: — "A Sanitary Primer," being an Elementary Treatise on Practical Hygeine, for the use of Indian Schools and General Public, by Mulraj, M. A., Premchand Roychand Student, President of the Arya Samaj, Lahore.

From the Author: — "Revolution at Baroda"; and "The Forces of the Native States of India, considered in relation to the Defence of the Indian Empire," by Dinshah Ardeshir Taleyarkhan, Esq.

From Balvantrao Vinayak Shastree, Esq.: — "A Free Translation of Putwardhani Punchang, or Putwardhani Almanack." [Note: A second copy of this valuable work has been forwarded to the Government of the United States of America by Col. Olcott.]

From Martin Wood, Esq., Bombay: — "Quarterly Returns of the Department of Finance and Commerce."

From Dr. Pandurang Gopal, G.G.M.C.: — "Tour along the Ganges and Jumna" by Lieut.-Col. Forrest, (Folio — handomely illustrated); "Ecce Homo"; "Eden and Heaven," by M. L. Charleswort; "Kusa Jatakaya, a Buddhistic Legend, from the Sinhalese of Alagiyavanna Mohotalla," by Thomas Steele, C.C.S.; "Last days in England of Rammohun Roy"; "Low on the Simple Bodies of Chemistry."

From Babu Kedar Nath Dutt, (Calcutta): — "Sri Krishna Sanhita" — a Commentary upon the different phases of Aryan religious belief, chiefly upon the creed of the Vaishnavas.

From Bobu Rajen Nath Dutt, (Calcutta): — "Bharatiya Granthavala," being a description of the works of Ancient India, their date and a brief commentary thereupon.

From Miss M. J. B. Hume: — "Obscure Texts illustrated"; "Mahommed, and Mahommedanism"; "The Apocryphal Gospels;" "Questions, to which answers are Respectfully asked from the Orthodox;" "The English Life of Jesus"; The Folk-Songs of Southern India"; "The Koran," by George Sale; "The Founders of Christianity, or Discourses upon the origin of the Christian Religion," by the Rev. James Cranbrook.

From Panachand Anandjee Parekh, Esq.: — "History of the Sect of the Maharajahs."